


my heart broke free on the open sky

by andibeth82



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roller Derby, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Multi, Roller Derby, Team as Family, but mostly it's a lot of femslash fluff, the femslash that turns into an OT3 when no one is looking because why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/pseuds/andibeth82
Summary: When Clint asks why Natasha likes roller derby, Natasha realizes she doesn't know how to respond. No one tended to ask why you did something like roller derby; it was such a niche sport that even if they were curious, they just figured that you really liked playing, or that you grew up somewhere where the sport was more prominent.So she says, "I liked the ruthlessness. Laura just liked the girls."And then Laura says, "I liked one girl."[AKA the roller derby AU where Laura and Natasha are on the same team in every single way, until Clint shows up to practice one day, and suddenly the game gets a little more complicated.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I know about roller derby I learned from Wikipedia, Whip It, and my own Hawkeye, [shefliestrue](http://shefliestrue.tumblr.com/). I tried to research as much as possible to make this accurate but I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> Major thanks to Jill for putting up with all my questions and texts, for brainstorming, for giving me ideas of roller derby names and for sending me pictures of hot ladies for encouragement. Thank you to gecko for helping me whine/iron out the rest of this. And thank you to everyone who encouraged this shameless piece of femslash fluff, which fills a need in my heart.
> 
>  
> 
> And I, infinitesimal being,  
> drunk with the great starry  
> void,  
> likeness, image of  
> mystery,  
> I felt myself a pure part  
> of the abyss,  
> I wheeled with the stars,  
>  **my heart broke free on the open sky**.  
>  ― Pablo Neruda

“You’re late,” Natasha informs Laura when she finally opens the door after at least five minutes of incessant knocking. “And you’re _never_ late.”

Laura groans, leaning against the doorframe. “I still have two hours.”

“Two hours until practice starts, which means twenty minutes to get ready, one hour to drive, and the rest of that time to get that hangover out of your system.” Natasha peers around the doorframe, noticing the beer bottles littering the floor and the mess of scattered papers and folders. She raises an eyebrow. “Rough night?”

“More like rough morning,” Laura mutters, waving her inside. “My group project leader decided to email everyone at 2 AM with all the changes we should make to this dumb report. And I was the only one up, because I’m still trying to finish binge watching _Orange Is The New Black_ , and so I made the mistake of replying, which meant I was working until five.”

“Ugh.” Natasha flops down on top of Laura’s bed. “That’s settled. I’m never going back to school. Ever.”

Laura throws her hombre-infused hair into a messy ponytail and reaches for her purple and white spandex uniform, which is lying on top of the laundry basket. “You should have thought of that before you decided to date someone in grad school.”

“In their last _year_ of grad school,” Natasha points out. “Besides, I didn’t know that when I hit on you. And anyway, you’re supposed to graduate and make all this money with your speech therapy degree so I can quit my diner job, and we can run away to Paris or something and become roller derby vagabonds.”

“Not until I’ve had my fill of all the free coffee my girlfriend can afford,” Laura says, searching the room for her gym bag. “Oh, come on!”

Natasha lifts her head from where it’s been pillowed against the bag Laura’s looking for. “What?”

Laura gives her a look. “You’re not funny.”

“I.” Natasha sits up. “Happen to think I’m very funny. Hysterical, in fact. So hysterical that you’re going to love when you show up to practice already tired.”

Laura drops her skates, which she’s just unearthed from under the bed, and eyes Natasha from the floor.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Do you _want_ it to be an invitation?” Natasha asks, spreading her legs and knocking her knees together suggestively.

Laura sighs. “What the hell. I’m gonna get sweaty anyway.”

Natasha leans forward on the bed as Laura climbs on top of her, fingers grabbing for her long-sleeved shirt. She pulls it over her head and then jerks Laura’s bra down, cupping one of her breasts. “That’s the spirit.”

“Don’t hit my bruise,” Laura says as Natasha’s other hand wraps around her torso. “I’m still healing from where Sharon pushed me into the wall last week.”

Natasha laughs throatily, her breath warm against Laura’s face. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

***

 

The truth is, Laura loves roller derby.

She had only joined the team last year, when a former roommate had convinced her to ditch homework and come to a local game. Laura hadn’t thought she’d ever be interested in a bunch of girls skating in circles and pushing each other around; besides, even if she _thought_ she might find a hot girl there, she wasn’t really looking to date. School was hard enough without having to manage a relationship along with it, and Laura swore she wouldn’t get sidetracked by trying to tackle both.

But then her friend had suggested she also attend the afterparty because why not, it’s not like they had class tomorrow _anyway_ , which is how Laura had found herself awkwardly sitting on the floor sipping a can of Six Point while everyone around her talked about things she didn’t really get, like jammers and double whips and goating.

“So, how’d you like the match?”

It had taken Laura a moment to realize that the red-haired girl was talking to her, because no one had talked to her the entire time she’d been there.

“It was fun,” Laura had responded casually, sipping more of her beer. She had remembered this particular girl from the game, thanks to her hair, but with her helmet off and her face up close, Laura had been surprised to find that her features were almost delicate, green eyes framed by wide cheekbones and a lower lip that looked perfect for biting on. (Laura always noticed lips, first.) “How long have you been playing?”

The girl had tossed her head. “About two years. They call me Block Widow. Guess why.”

“Because you block people?” Laura had asked sarcastically. She knew enough about the sport to know people had roller derby names that were usually a play on their own names, or on something related to pop culture. The girl had smiled in appreciation.

“One point for the girl who looks like this is their first time out of the farm!”

“I’m _not_ a farm girl,” Laura had protested indignantly, though it wasn’t quite true. Her family had lived on a farm for years.

“Well, you’re certainly not a big city roller derby girl,” the redhead had replied with another grin. At her words, Laura had found herself frustrated and, okay, _maybe_ a little turned on.

“Tell me your real name and we’ll see.”

“Oh?” The girl had smiled. “If I tell you my real name, you have to promise to try out for our team next month. We need pretty girls like you on the floor. Anyway, I’m Natasha.”

“I’m Laura. You really think I’m pretty?”

Natasha had grinned again, taken Laura’s beer, and downed it in response.

After that, there had been a lot of back and forth. Laura had kept her promise and showed up at tryouts with a pair of borrowed rollerskates and workout clothes that were slightly too small. Natasha had smiled when she saw her lacing up her skates, and winked, and then she had whispered something to a girl sitting next to her with dark hair streaked bright pink.

Natasha had also, predictably, kicked her ass on the track with no remorse.

But Laura had somehow made the team, with bruises to show for it, and soon she found herself a participating member of The Young Avengers. And over time, she had gotten more comfortable with her skating, her ability to be vicious on the track, and her relationship with Natasha.

A _lot_ more comfortable.

So it wasn’t that she had been looking for a girlfriend at the time, and she certainly hadn’t been looking for a roller derby girlfriend, but things happened, and, well. Laura had never been one to try to shove feelings away when she was confident about something. And she was _very_ confident about Natasha.

“Check it out,” Natasha says, nudging Laura and breaking her out of her thoughts. “We’ve got a spectator.”

“Seriously?” Laura turns her head, puzzled, because aside from Wanda’s brother Pietro, people rarely came and watched their practice. The sandy-haired guy sitting by himself in the bleachers of the warehouse has his purple hoodie pulled up over his face, but even from far away, Laura can tell he’s attractive.

“He’s kind of cute, actually.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “One hot spectator shows up and suddenly you’re gonna switch teams on me?”

Laura laughs. “No. I’m just making an observation. I hope he’s not here to try and pick up girls.”

Natasha snorts. “If he is, he’s shit out of luck. The only two girls on this team who aren’t gay or taken are Sharon and Wanda. Sharon’s definitely not his type, and Wanda’s brother would probably kill anyone who came near her.”

“True,” Laura agrees, fastening her kneepads around her legs more tightly. As she leans over, Natasha not so subtly squeezes her ass, and Laura bites down on a smile.

God, she really loves that this sport actually allows you to _do_ things like that. In roller derby, no one looked at you strangely if someone grabbed your ass. Especially not when you played with an entire group of women.

“Who is the hottie?” Wanda asks in her quiet Romanian lilt, skating to a rather impressive stop in front of Laura and Natasha. She throws a glance over her shoulder. “He is kind of cute.”

“Told you,” Laura says to Natasha, who rolls her eyes.

“Just because I sleep with girls doesn’t mean I don’t believe you when you say a guy is attractive,” Natasha retorts, but Laura notices it doesn’t stop her from checking out the stranger again when she thinks no one is looking. She hides another smile; for as long as she’s known Natasha, Natasha has only slept with girls, but she fully believes Natasha would absolutely have sex with a guy if she felt like it. Labels just didn’t matter to her the way they mattered to most people, and Natasha had enough confidence in herself to realize that.

“Well, I hope he likes violence,” Wanda says after a pause. “Sharon is not going to hold back today.”

“Great, because I’m both annoyed and hungover, and I could use the opportunity to let off some steam,” Laura replies.

“Princess.” America stops in front of them, her thick dark hair whipping back from her face, almost as if she’s a Disney character come to life. “Don’t tell me Widow here didn’t _let off some steam_ with you before you got here.”

“Fuck you!” Laura blurts out, and America grins.

“I’d rather let Natasha do that. Wanna tell me about it on the track?”

It’s a challenge Laura feels like she was born for, the thrill of being able to let out her aggression in a way that she knows someone probably wouldn’t expect from a straight-A student in a pretty tough graduate school program. Laura loses herself in the practice and body slams with all her strength, ducking and weaving out of their pack until Wanda crashes into her with a grin, throwing her off course and to the ground.

“Are you going to hit me back, Laura Croft?”

“You wish, Scarlet Bitch.” Laura gets up, adjusting her mouth guard and gearing up for another run while America yells in the background.

“Jammers, take your positions. That means me. The rest of you, what the hell are you doing sitting around? I’ll kick your ass if you don’t start moving!”

Natasha skates by and lovingly blows an exaggerated kiss at Laura, smirking with her eyes.

 _I’ll kick your ass in bed later, if you want,_ says her expression and Laura twirls around in her skates.

God, Laura really loves roller derby.

 

***

 

By the time practice has ended, Laura is sweaty and tired, but in a good way. She joins the other girls in the locker room, grabs a beer from the cooler, and downs half of it before putting it back in her locker. She then heads straight to the shower to wash herself off.

“That guy’s still here,” Natasha informs Laura when she exits about fifteen minutes later feeling more relaxed, wrapping a thin towel around her upper chest and another one around her hair. Laura frowns as she inspects a large purple and green bruise on the inside of her calf.

“Did anyone talk to him?”

Natasha shrugs. “Dunno. Why, you wanna?”

Laura shrugs back; she has to admit she’s a little curious about why this guy had shown up in the first place and stayed, especially if he wasn’t running off. She drops her towel and reaches for the clothes she’s left on the bench, while Natasha stares with an arched brow. She can’t blame her -- she’s become much more open about her body since both dating Natasha and joining the team, and, well. The rest of the girls were practically family, the kind of “ride or die” family you’d shed blood for (or have, at least, on the track). Either way, they were all girls, most of whom liked _other_ girls, so being naked wasn’t anything she was worried about people seeing. Not anymore.

“I kind of want to know his name,” Laura admits, taking the towel off her hair and shaking it out. Natasha makes a face as small droplets of water hit her cheek. “Don’t you?”

Natasha hands over the beer Laura’s left in her locker. “I could be persuaded. Dinner’s on me, by the way. Pick what you want from the diner and I’ll bring it over.”

Laura smiles gratefully as she chugs the rest of her beer. “Throw in a massage for the slam Wanda gave me earlier, and I _might_ let you spend the night.” She chucks the now-empty can into the trash in a graceful arc, and Natasha raises an eyebrow in approval.

“Not bad. Maybe you can give Kate a run for her money.”

Laura smiles. “Not likely. Besides.” She rises on her tiptoes to meet Natasha’s lips. “There’s only room for one person with good aim in my life, and you’re it.” She walks back towards her locker, shoving the rest of her clothes and gear in her bag. America’s sitting on the bench, massaging her leg, and Laura gives her a salute.

“See you, Chavez.”

America gives her a wave in return as Laura exits with Natasha behind her. When she gets outside, she notices the guy with the purple sweatshirt is indeed still there, leaning against the warehouse with his head bent forward, fiddling with his iPhone.

“If you’re hoping to get invited to a party or something, those only happen after official games,” Laura says by way of announcing herself. The guy looks up and almost drops his phone on the ground, making a graceful and impressive save.

“Hi. Uh...hi. Sorry. Jesus, you scared me.”

Laura’s eyebrows knit together, because he seems genuinely caught off guard, and now that she’s looking at him up close -- hardened, coarse features set against a resting face that seems to hide any sort of emotion -- she’s realizing her assessment from earlier had been right. He _is_ cute, in his own way.

“Were you waiting for someone?”

“No.” The guy shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Well, kind of. I’m waiting for the archery class to get out so I can talk to the guy running the show.” He jerks his thumb towards the smaller warehouse next door. “I’m supposed to be his replacement for teaching. I’m Clint, by the way.”

“Laura,” Laura says, extending her hand. Natasha reaches forward as well.

“Natasha. So you weren’t supposed to be here?”

Clint shakes his head. “I got turned around when I was looking for where the building was. But then I couldn’t get in anyway until lessons were over, so I just decided to stay and watch your practice.” He eyes Natasha. “You guys were pretty brutal out there.”

Natasha smiles. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I’ll also take it that you’ve never seen roller derby before.”

Clint laughs, shoving a hand across his stubbled chin. “No. But now I’m kind of glad that the building I’ll apparently be teaching in is next door.”

“You and me both,” Laura mutters under her breath. Natasha smacks her ass quietly and Clint turns his head at the sound.

“Huh?”

“Nevermind.” Laura shoots Natasha a look. “We practice twice a week, games four times a month, every weekend. _If_ you’re so inclined.”

Clint nods and smiles. “Guess I got more than I bargained for by making a location mistake,” he says as the door to the other warehouse opens, light spilling out from inside.

“Guess you did,” Laura says, not taking her eyes off his face. “Have fun at archery.”

She only leaves because Natasha pulls at her arm, essentially dragging her away from where she’s standing, gym bag and all.

She doesn’t turn around to see if Clint watches them leave, and tries to convince herself that it doesn’t matter.

 

***

 

Natasha drops Laura off at her apartment after taking her order for dinner, though she doesn’t really need to, because Laura’s been ordering the same meal since they started dating. (A large greek salad, sans anchovies, and a side of cheese fries). She glances down at her phone as it vibrates in her pocket, pulling it out.

Natasha smiles at the message, pushing open the door to the diner. There’s only a few people sitting at the tables, so Natasha feels comfortable enough to swing underneath the counter and plop her arms down on the window to the kitchen.

“Hey, girl.” Scott looks up from grilling steak. “I didn’t know you were coming in tonight.”

“Not on duty, just getting dinner.” Natasha slides a piece of paper across the counter window. “The usual. I’ll ring it up on my card.”

“Sure,” Scott says, taking the paper and glancing at it. “How’s practice going?”

“Fine. How was work today?”

Scott wipes his hands on his apron and grabs a new pair of gloves. “Can’t complain either way. Missed you yelling at me about orders, though.”

Natasha smirks. “I’ll be back tomorrow bright and early, don’t worry.” She liked Scott; she had been taken aback at first when he had walked in off the street, because not only was he way too attractive to be stuck in a kitchen, but his resume stated he had a Masters degree in electrical engineering.

But he was apparently also a convicted felon who had just gotten out of jail for petty crimes and was looking to make ends meet for his family, which included a divorced wife and a young daughter. And, as he explained sheepishly, no one had really been interested in hiring a convicted felon once they found out about his past -- not even Baskin-Robbins. Natasha hadn’t minded, though. In fact, that was what had made her so interested in Scott, and why she’d practically vetted him through the roof to her boss.

“Laura’s good?” Scott asks as Natasha makes herself a coke with a lot of ice.

“Yeah.” Natasha thinks about the way Laura had looked at Clint, and suddenly can’t decide if she’s annoyed or amused. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“When’s the wedding?”

Natasha rolls her eyes as Scott slides two plastic containers towards her. “Knock it off, Lang. Or I won’t come back tomorrow.”

“A threat spoken like a true Russian spy,” Scott replies with a grin, because from the moment he found out her full name, he’d teased her about how she could probably be an agent or assassin of some kind -- nevermind the looks she could give him if he didn’t serve up an order on time.

“Whatever. Tell Cassie I said hi.”

“Will do, Nat.”

She throws a few extras into a plastic bag and leaves with her food, thankful that the off-campus apartment Laura’s been living in is only a few blocks away -- another “meant to be” perk of their relationship, and one that made Natasha wonder why she’d never really been around her place of work. Laura, for all her put-together traits, practically screamed “girl who would show up and eat all the disco fries off her plate while downing three cups of coffee in ten minutes,” and god knows there were tons of _those_ kind of people that came in. None of them were particularly good looking, though.

“Hey,” Natasha says when she kicks open the door to Laura’s apartment, finding her stretched out reading on the bed. “Special delivery.”

“About time. Come over here and I’ll tip you.” Laura’s bottom lip curls suggestively, and Natasha puts the food on the floor, lowering herself to the bed and curling up in Laura’s arms.

“Mmmm.” Natasha brushes back her hair and kisses her cheek. “You smell like roller derby.”

“Even though I showered?”

“Yes,” Natasha says, sitting up. “Fortunately, I love it.” She takes off her top, exposing her bra, and settles back against Laura’s chest again. “Hey, so. What’s your deal?”

“Huh?” Laura’s voice is practically muffled against her arm, which she’s thrown up over her face.

“You were totally into that Clint guy at practice.”

“I was not!”

Laura answers so quickly that Natasha starts laughing, rolling over and burying her face in Laura’s shirt.

“You are so _easy_.”

“Shut up,” Laura says, abruptly getting up and leaving Natasha on the bed. “Number one, I’m gay. Number two, I’ll never see him again, anyway.”

“Oh, come on.” Natasha follows Laura as she walks into the bathroom. “Number one, you’re gay, but that doesn’t mean anything. Number two, of course you will. He’s gonna teach that archery class next door, remember?”

“So what?” Laura finishes taking out her contacts, shoving horn-rimmed glasses onto her face.

“ _So_ , he seemed very interested in roller derby. Maybe we should start inviting him to games.” She grins and leans against the door. “It’ll give Pietro someone to talk to when he’s not busy watching Wanda.”

Laura doesn’t answer, and when she turns around to face Natasha, her face has morphed into a scowl.

“I like _women_ , remember?”

“Vaguely,” Natasha teases. “I dunno, though. Maybe you have a point. Clint _is_ kinda cute. I mean, once you get past the murderous resting face.” She walks back to the bed and sits down, holding out her arms.

“We have to eat dinner,” Laura protests.

Natasha sighs. “Just because you suddenly like a guy doesn’t mean you can’t cuddle with me?”

Laura rolls her eyes but takes off her shirt, joining Natasha and cozying up next to her as Natasha starts to kiss a spot near the hollow of her neck.

That’s another thing roller derby taught you: sometimes, there were conversations that just weren’t worth using words for.

 

***

 

Laura’s walking into the warehouse for another round of scrimmage when she catches Clint dragging his own bag of gear -- a bow and a large quiver of arrows -- from his car.

“Hey,” Laura says with a smile as she slows, waiting for him to catch up, hoping she doesn’t look too eager. “You came back.”

“Well, yeah. I work next door.” Clint grins, a lopsided smile shadowing his face.

“Oh, so you found the right place, I guess.” Laura hoists her bag higher on her shoulder, shifting her weight. Clint laughs, a low growl that sounds kind of like a broken lawnmower. Laura finds herself thinking it would probably sound good with Natasha’s raspy giggle that she’s so fond of, and isn’t sure why she’s even thinking that. She liked Natasha. She liked _girls_.

“Hey, listen. I know our last visit was, um...kind of random.”

“You could say that,” Laura says, training her gaze towards the warehouse where Sharon and Wanda are entering for practice. Sharon casts a glance in her direction and then turns to Wanda and giggles, her shoulders shaking, and, oh yeah. Laura has a feeling there are going to be _words_ later.

“Anyway, I really am interested in this roller derby thing,” Clint continues, jerking his thumb towards the warehouse. “Even though I’m pretty sure this whole thing is really a secret kind of spy training kind of deal, where you all try to kill each other.”

Laura purses her lips, trying to figure out how to respond. “Tell you what. Come out with us after your lessons -- we always spend Friday night at The Iron Patriot. It’s the bar right down the street, a little dive place with really good dollar slices and cheap beer. You can meet the team, and maybe you’ll even learn a little bit about roller derby.”

“Yeah?” Clint looks both interested and excited. “You -- I mean, it won’t be weird?”

“It probably will be,” Laura admits, thinking of Natasha. “But we’re all pretty open when it comes to meeting people. Just, you know. A bunch of girls who like to hit each other and knock each other around.” She winks at Clint before walking into the building, heading straight to the locker room.

“I invited Clint out after practice,” she says, dropping her bag on the floor, because she doesn’t feel like beating around the bush. Natasha’s in the middle of lacing up her skates and looks up in surprise.

“What?”

“I saw him coming in for archery, so I invited him to come to drinks later,” Laura repeats bluntly. Natasha snorts, and Sharon sticks her head out of her locker.

“Hey Laura, did you trade in your rainbow card and forget to tell us?”

Laura glares at Sharon. “Who asked you?”

“Um, you did, just now, when you blurted out that you invited a random guy to hang with us after practice.” Sharon grabs her helmet and fastens it expertly. “Speaking of practice, scrimmage starts in fifteen, girls. Don’t let America see you sitting on your asses.”

Laura puts on her skates, fastening her own helmet. “Look, I don’t know what this is,” she admits as Natasha sits next to her. “He’s nice. And he’s cute. But I’m with you.”

“So be with me,” Natasha says, double checking her knee pads. “Be my girlfriend, and come kick my ass. We’ve got a game this weekend, remember?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Laura says with a groan. “The Ultimates aren’t exactly my favorite team. They _totally_ killed us last time.”

“So let’s give ‘em a taste of their own medicine and kill ‘em back,” Natasha says with a smile that Laura recognizes as being way too excited to get violent.

Sharon’s jamming for them this round, which Laura is perfectly fine with, considering Sharon likes to play rough. Still, she’s caught off guard when Natasha bangs into her a little too roughly, and she wonders if it’s because she’s annoyed about Clint, or if it’s because Natasha’s just trying to engage in foreplay.

(She’s stopped trying _not_ to think of most practices as foreplay. It just wasn’t worth the mental energy to convince herself otherwise, and she realizes she skates better if she’s turned on.)

“Playing dirty, Romanoff?”

“Always, Laura Croft.”

All in all, the practice is mostly mundane -- Laura gets a few more bruises than usual, Natasha slams into her shoulder more than usual, so Laura hits her back when she gets around the track again. After awhile, Sharon takes a time out and lets America play her normal jammer position. When America wipes the floor with Laura and Natasha, Sharon (who is sitting on the bleachers holding a full cup of beer) hollers loudly, whooping with what Laura thinks might be slight inebriation. Wanda, meanwhile, does a pretty bang-up job of keeping America out of their pack. Laura actually ends practice feeling pretty good about their upcoming match, despite the fact she’s sorer than usual and feels slightly off her game.

“Beers in twenty!” Kate calls out when they return to the locker room, pumping her fist in the air before wincing at the movement. “Ow.”

“Serves you right,” America says, dragging her fingers through Kate’s hair. “Next time, don’t try to push me out of the way while I’m trying to score.”

“You just wanted to touch my chest,” Kate says loftily, grabbing for her regular bra as she sheds her sports bra and uniform.

“Princess, you know I did.”

Laura ignores their banter in favor of throwing on her own clothes, while Natasha gets dressed behind her.

“So you didn’t tell the new guy we’re dating, right?”

Laura turns around, affronted. “Of course not. That’s not, like, something I drop casually.”

“You should’ve, he might think he’s getting some.” Natasha bends over and starts sucking on Laura’s neck, picking the one spot where a hickey is already starting to develop.

“Hey, take it in the shower or something!” Sharon calls out, shouldering her gym bag and slamming her locker door shut. “Like America and Kate do.”

“Tattletale!” Kate pouts from underneath a heavy fringe of bangs, but Laura notices she immediately disappears, probably to look for America so they _can_ get in a round of sex before drinks. She finishes getting dressed and tosses a pair of keys to Natasha.

“I’ll pay if you drive,” she offers. “And I’ll drive home.”

Natasha catches the keys one handed. “You’re on.”

 

***

 

It’s not really Natasha’s fault that they’re slightly late to the bar -- practices always riled her up a little more than usual; something that she knew Laura didn’t mind, especially if she benefited from it. Plus, the fact that they could sneak back into the locker rooms and shower, or at least wash themselves off before going back out into public, was a perk of having random quickies in the backseat of Laura’s car.

“You think he’ll show up?” Natasha asks once they’re settled at the bar. She’s sitting cross-legged, taking up two barstools, while the rest of the group congregates by the juke box. Natasha can hear America loudly offering her choice of music, her thick accent booming over the rest of the crowd, while Sharon meticulously scans the collection of songs.

“He should,” Laura says, tracing her pointer finger around the rim of her glass. “I mean, what else does he have to do on a Friday night?”

“I dunno, maybe he has a date,” Natasha says, rubbing Laura’s shoulder. As if on cue, the door opens and Natasha smiles, kicking her leg slightly. Laura winces from the pressure against a fresh bruise and turns, waving Clint over.

“Thought you’d bring your arrows,” Laura says when he leans over to hug her. He hugs Natasha too, and Natasha figures she can allow it. Besides, Laura clearly liked the guy, so who was Natasha to turn down a possible opportunity for an eventual threesome?

Clint laughs. “They’re in my truck,” he says, nodding towards the door. Natasha makes a face as he leans over to order a Bud Light from the bartender.

“That’s like, _water_.”

Clint shrugs. “I gotta drive home eventually. Plus, I don’t really mind cheap beer. It’s what I drank at home in all the shitty bars, before I had enough money to spend more than two bucks on a drink.”

“Where’s home for you?” Laura asks. Clint smiles wistfully.

“Waverly. Iowa. It’s...well, it’s not somewhere I would tell you to visit,” he says, barking out a laugh. “Lots of rural shit, and cornfields. But I guess it wasn’t so bad. I started archery there. It gave me a way to spend my time without doing other things that were bad for me.” He glances at Natasha. “Is that why you guys do roller derby?”

Natasha finds herself searching for an answer, because she realizes she’s never had to talk about that before. No one tended to ask _why_ you did something like roller derby; it was such a niche sport that even if they were curious, they just figured that you really liked playing, or that you grew up somewhere where the sport was more prominent. And she doesn’t even have the ability to use the “trip-and-fall-into-a-sport” story like Laura does.

“I liked the ruthlessness,” Natasha says finally. “Laura just liked the girls.”

Clint’s glass hits the top of the bar table so hard Natasha thinks it might break, and he looks at Laura. “You liked the girls?”

For a moment, Natasha’s not sure how Laura’s going to respond -- and, yeah, okay, she should have asked permission, even if it was through one of their subtle non-verbal communication methods, before blurting out her partner's sexual orientation. But what the hell. Natasha also knows Laura’s on the verge of falling for this guy and he might as well know before things go too far that it might be harder than usual to get her into bed.

“I liked _one_ girl,” Laura says shyly, running her fingers through Natasha’s hair, and Natasha feels herself relax.

“Well.” Clint looks at both of them in turn. “Guess I don’t need the condoms I stashed in my car, then.”

“ _What_?”

“Joking!” Clint holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m joking. I can make jokes, you know. Give me a little credit.”

“I’ll punch you next time you make a joke like that,” Natasha practically growls, but she knows Laura can easily read behind her response -- Natasha wouldn’t have minded if Clint really _did_ want to take her back to her car, despite teasing Laura about her wavering sexuality.

“Are all girls in roller derby relationships this territorial?” Clint asks as Laura waves across the room to Wanda, who is holding court in a corner with Pietro watching a game of beer pong. Natasha hides a smile.

“Yeah, kind of. It’s in our blood. You wanna learn about roller derby?”

Clint’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Yeah. I do.”

“Okay.” Natasha nods in the direction of Clint’s shoulder. “So, the first thing to know about roller derby -- aside from the fact it’s basically a bunch of girls beating each other up and enjoying it, maybe that’s why half of us are gay -- anyway, we all have derby names. Like, a play on words that we pick for ourselves, that we get called when we’re on the track during games. See that blonde girl over there, in the blue jacket and cowboy boots?”

Clint turns, fixing his gaze on where Sharon is laughing while downing a shot of something clear (and, Natasha figures, potent).

“Yeah. I saw her playing with you.”

“That’s Sharon. We call her Agent 13 because she once took out 13 people in under two minutes.” Natasha pauses to let Clint take in the information. “She looks intimidating, but she’s actually super nice off the track. Bakes a mean lasagna for team dinners. Her mom, Peggy, was a former roller derby champion.”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “Former?”

“She retired a few years ago. But don’t screw with Aunt Peggy -- that’s what we all call her, when we’re not freaked out by her. She’s intimidating too, but pretty fun once you get past the whole legend thing.”

“And there she goes, off on the legend thing again,” Laura says, rolling her eyes and taking another sip of beer. Natasha ignores her.

“The girl next to her, the one with the dark hair, is Wanda. Otherwise known as Scarlet Bitch, because she’s kind of ruthless on the floor.” Natasha grins. “Her brother, Pietro, he comes to our games a lot, so you’ll probably see him. And those two in the back are Kate Bishop and America Chavez. America’s our team captain, which is why we call her Miss Smashmerica. Kate is Hawk Eye Of The Tiger, because she’s got the best aim out of anyone when it comes to figuring out how to keep people from scoring.”

Kate and America lean forward, taking a shot together, and then give each other a high five. America’s hand snakes its way around Kate’s back and Kate nuzzles her ear before leaning into her.

“Are they --”

“Together? Depends on what day you’re asking,” Laura interjects. “They won’t officially say they’re girlfriends, but Natasha’s caught them making out in the locker room more than once, and they definitely don’t hide their attraction to each other, so…”

“So, we’re pretty sure that they’re screwing each other when no one is looking,” Natasha finishes. “Not like it’s any of our business.”

“Right.” Clint nods towards both of them. “Okay. So Agent 13 and Scarlet Bitch and her brother, Miss Smashmerica and Hawk Eye Of The Tiger who may or may not be dating, and then you guys. What do they call you?”

“Block Widow, mostly because I’m a blocker,” Natasha says. She jerks her thumb towards Laura. “We call this one Laura Croft.”

Clint, who has taken another swig of beer, starts to choke. “Wait,” he says once he’s stopped coughing. “Like, the video game character?”

“The very one.” Laura smiles and Clint laughs again, clearing his throat.

“That’s bold.”

Laura grins. “That’s roller derby.”

 

***

 

“I can’t believe you told Clint about us!” Laura fumes. She’s huffing the words in Natasha’s face -- literally, right in Natasha’s face, because Natasha is holding her feet down on the floor while she does steady crunches on a mat in the locker room.

“Okay, I know I should’ve probably asked, but my mouth slipped.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Whatever. It worked out okay.” Natasha digs her palms harder onto the top of Laura’s feet as she shifts slightly. “Besides, I think he liked you no matter what.”

“That’s not the point,” Laura says as she completes another crunch and a half. “Now it’s just going to be awkward! I barely know anything about him, and all he knows about me is that I play roller derby and that I’m dating a girl.”

“Not true,” Natasha says as Laura groans out of both frustration and pain. Her middle is killing her for various reasons, least of which is because of America’s elbow smacking into her ribs while she was jamming. “He knows you’re a natural brunette. And that you drive a Ford Prius.”

Laura flops back onto the floor, breathing heavily. “I hate you.”

Natasha lets go of her legs, pulling her up into a sitting position. “You love me. Hey Kate, you’re an expert in kissing women. Does she love me?”

“Definitely,” Kate says as she passes by, ripping her headphones out of her ears. They’ve just finished a pre-bout scrimmage with the Ultimates and are using the time before the game to relax. “By the way, the Ultimates are already bitching about how we cheated in our last game.”

“Ugh, seriously?” Laura gets up. “They’re the _last_ people who should talk about cheating. I swear, their jammer makes some serious foul plays half the time.”

“And you think America can’t handle that?” Kate asks as she opens her locker, pulling out her skates. “She’d wipe the floor with them, if she could do it without getting penalized.” She glances at Laura, clearing her throat. “So what’s with you and the cute guy that came to the bar last night? America said he couldn’t stop looking at you.”

“Nothing,” Laura says quickly, securing her hair in a low ponytail so that she can fit her helmet on easily.

“Nothing? Are you and Natasha going to be having a threesome soon?”

“If you really want to know, I thought it would be fun to talk to him for more than five minutes,” Laura says curtly, pulling on her elbow and knee pads. “Also, he wanted to learn about roller derby, so I thought I’d be nice.”

“That’s all he wanted to learn about?” Kate asks with a lopsided smile and suddenly, Laura feels completely violated.

“Yes,” she says shortly, getting up and walking away quickly. Natasha hangs back, but Kate jogs after her, catching her by the fabric of her elbow pads.

“Hey, Laura.” She bites her lip as Laura turns around, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I was just teasing. I didn’t mean to make you guys upset.”

“Yeah,” Laura says flatly, because she really doesn’t care if Natasha’s upset. If Natasha _was_ upset, she could broach that subject with Laura directly -- preferably while having sex. Kate sighs.

“Look, what I meant to say is, I get it. The whole dating-a-girl-but-having-confusing-feelings thing.” Kate looks down at her feet. “My dad, he...well, he’s kind of a douche -- I’ve been working on saying that word out loud for awhile with my therapist, hooray for me. Anyway, my whole family kind of wrote me off. They barely cared about what I did. Except for my sister, Susan, but even she sided with my dad most of the time. When I split and went off on my own, she stayed at home, because she didn’t see the problem I had with my dad.”

“Uh huh.” Laura really isn’t sure where Kate is going with this conversation, but at least she knows that it’s coming from a place of trying to connect. Laura didn’t really talk to people about her relationship with Natasha, because there was no reason to. They had their issues sometimes, like all couples trying to find out how to work, but mostly, they just were. They always just _were_ , and Laura didn’t need to talk to other girls to find out if they were doing things the right or wrong way.

“The point is, I had to figure out a lot of stuff for myself,” Kate continues. “I didn’t know if I even _liked_ girls, I just knew I was staring at a lot of girls in tight uniforms and daydreaming about them more than I was thinking about guys. And it wasn’t like I had someone to talk to, because I couldn’t talk to my dad, or even my sister. It’s lonely when all you have is yourself to ask questions to, so when I was feeling confused about my sexuality, I also spent a lot of time thinking I wasn’t really validated. And part of the reason I liked roller derby was because I could get all of that aggression out, and _be_ someone to my team. Meeting America was just a bonus.” She puts a hand on Laura’s shoulder. “If you like Clint, you should find out what that feeling really means. No one tells you how to define your sexuality, you know? You can like Natasha and be with Natasha but really like Clint, too. There’s no law that says you can’t.”

Laura nods, feeling a little more comforted. “I know. Thanks, Hawk.”

“Anytime, Laura Croft. Now, come on. Kiss your girlfriend so we can go kick some Ultimates ass.” She winks and leaves to go back to the locker room, and Laura takes a moment to herself before she turns around. Natasha is standing behind her, ready to go in her skates and helmet, and the black and red uniform that Laura knows she’d gotten at a garage sale a few years ago.

“Are you mad?” Laura asks tentatively. “That I’m even talking to this guy when we’re together?”

Natasha sighs, moving closer so that she can touch Laura, and brushes a hand over her face. “Well. I still wanna kiss you, if that counts for anything.” She leans in and meets Laura’s lips, and maybe it’s the fact that Laura’s just really turned on already, or maybe it’s because she just wants to prove to Natasha how much she likes her, but she finds her hand moving up Natasha’s ribcage, underneath her shirt, cupping her breast as easily as she can given that they’re dressed in their uniforms.

“Save it for after the game,” Natasha breathes into Laura’s mouth, her voice sending shivers down her spine. “I heard there’s a hot tub at Aunt Peggy’s house.”

 

***

 

The Young Avengers lose their match and the Ultimates win, 30-23, but Laura’s really okay with it. America got some good moves in; when it came to jammers, she was far superior in every way -- faster, stronger, built better. It was just that, well, having Jennifer Walters as a jammer for the Ultimates meant that America was matched in build. And since Walters had a career in both law _and_ bodybuilding, it made her strong and calculated in ways America couldn’t get around.

But Laura feels good, because she’d helped stop at least three of Walters’ passes, even through one of those passes ended with her sustaining what she knows will be a really, really nasty bruise on top of one that had already been blossoming.

“That was both the best game and the worst game we’ve ever had,” Sharon declares, holding a plastic cup of beer towards the sky in a toast. Everyone pretends to clink as well as they can without spilling; no one is quite drunk enough for _that_ silliness just yet.

“I did not think it was so bad,” Wanda offers as she drinks her beer. She sits down on the edge of the pool, dipping her legs and bare feet into the water. “Pietro said he overheard people in the stands saying how he thought we were the better team.”

“Yeah, until Walters decided to wipe the floor with us,” America interjects bluntly, her loud voice carrying over the radio station blaring through the outside speakers. “At least we’re still on track to qualify for the championships if we keep our rank as second in the league. I don’t mind being second as long as we keep playing well. The Ultimates are just sore losers all around.”

They don’t really come to Sharon's house after games -- normally, they spend their nights at a bar or at Natasha’s diner; on occasion they’ve even infiltrated Laura’s apartment. But Sharon had convinced her mom to let them use the house after their weekend bouts starting this year, and Laura’s not exactly complaining. Peggy’s house was practically a hotel, with a full-sized pool in the backyard, along with a hot tub and spacious deck, not to mention plenty of space for them to (appropriately) pass out if they were too drunk to drive home at the end of the night.

“Hey! Let’s see the goods, Laura Croft. You’ve held back long enough.”

America is egging her on from the other side of the hot tub where she’s sitting with her arm around Kate, holding a cup of beer. Laura rolls her eyes but puts her own cup down and turns slowly in the water to expose a brilliant purple and green bruise that takes up almost the entire length of her back. Kate sucks in a breath and America whoops in approval, and Laura can’t help but smile. Hurting or not, it felt damn good to feel she had somewhat finally earned her place amongst the team (and becoming “inducted” by dating Natasha didn’t count).

“I hope Natasha has fun hitting _that_ later,” America says, and as if on cue, Natasha leans over and kisses Laura’s shoulder.

“I’ll never tell,” Natasha says slyly, tracing her hand delicately over the bruise. Laura knew Natasha liked roller derby because it allowed her to own _her_ scars, the imperfections she had sustained during her orphanage days at the Red Room, before she had gotten out and made her own life for herself. No one needed to know the stories behind the marks on her body, and if they did ask, she could attribute them to the sport she was so good at. Laura wasn’t exactly trying to up her in body imperfections or anything like that, but feeling like she’s a little chipped around the edges and not so perfect, like everyone always assumed, makes her feel a little closer to her girlfriend.

“Wanna get out of here?” Natasha whispers into her ear, her hand swimming underneath the water until it brushes the bottom part of Laura’s bikini. Laura nods, trying not to smile too much, and downs the rest of her beer as Natasha gets out of the hot tub, dripping wet and all. America gives them a knowing look -- of course she does, because they’re all basically on their way to tipsy and not exactly subtle about their intentions -- and Laura takes Natasha’s hand as they forgo towels, winding their way through Sharon and Wanda and Pietro, who are playing drinking games on the side of the pool.

The door to the basement barely closes and locks behind them before Natasha is pushing Laura up against the wall, stripping down her already damp bikini so that she can kiss her body more thoroughly. Laura makes a noise as her bruise finds pressure against the wall and Natasha moves so that she’s against the wall instead, which gives Laura the opportunity to take her own clothes off. Then they’re pressed against each other, and Natasha’s kisses smell like a combination of chlorine and sweat and strawberry lip balm and she tastes like the gross purple Gatorade they’d both downed after the game, and _goddamn_ , it’s so _good_.

Natasha moves fast, but so does Laura -- quickie sex isn’t exactly their thing, but it comes in handy when they’re both too horny to wait around for foreplay. She doesn’t even remember what happens after she finally orgasms, Natasha’s hands roughing up her body in all the right places. All she knows is that she wakes up curled into Natasha’s arm, warm and dehydrated, roused by an annoying buzz coming from her gym bag.

Laura tries to ignore it, but she’s too awake thanks to too much drinking to go back to sleep. She moves out of Natasha’s grip and crawls towards her bag, pulling on her underpants and bra in the process.

Laura rubs her eyes and looks blearily at the alcohol bottles littering the floor, realizing she doesn’t even remember drinking any of them. She blinks back a fuzzy memory of after-sex bliss, her head pillowed against Natasha’s thigh, downing the rest of the wine that Natasha had found in the downstairs fridge.

 _Too hungover is more like it_ , she thinks, trying to come up with a response that doesn’t sound pathetic. She almost feels bad when she realizes he’s probably thinking that her silence means she’s not interested and quickly texts back.

She crawls back over to Natasha, who makes a noise as Laura pulls the covers back.

“Leaving me so soon?”

“I thought you had work,” Laura says, and Natasha sits up slowly.

“Yeah, but not until noon.” She squints at her watch and then looks at the phone in Laura’s hand. “Who called?”

Laura thinks about lying, but decides it’s not worth it. “Clint. He wanted to know if I was free later to hang out.”

“Oh.” Natasha leans over and kisses her. “Are you?”

“I guess.” Laura runs her hand through her hair, trying to work movement back into her sore arms.

“Good.” Natasha leans back down, throwing her arm over her head. “Then I’m going back to sleep.”

Laura leans over to kiss her arm, then gets up and puts her clothes back on. When she leaves the basement, she finds Wanda sitting on the floor of the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee.

“Where’s everyone else?” Laura asks, casting her gaze around the empty room, noticing the quiet.

“America and Kate went home late last night,” Wanda says. “Sharon went to get breakfast.”

Laura thinks about breakfast, but realizes her stomach is rolling a little too much to consider anything that’s not water, and so she gratefully accepts another cup of coffee and sips it slowly before bringing it back downstairs to Natasha.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Natasha mumbles from her spot on the floor as Laura packs up her things.

“That’s not a very long list,” Laura replies, kissing her again before leaving. By the time she drives back to her apartment, she’s feeling improved enough to attempt coffee for herself, and prepares a bath to soak her muscles while skimming through the latest batch of required readings for school.

She’s showered, cleaned up the apartment, and feels slightly more normal by the time Clint’s knocking on her door later that afternoon. Laura opens it with a smile, meeting Clint’s sheepish grin.

“I, uh. Well, I don’t know much about roller derby, but I know you guys get banged up a lot,” says Clint, holding up a canvas bag. “I thought you might want to have a night in.”

Laura rises up on her toes and peeks inside; there’s a green fuzzy blanket, a bottle of Bailey’s, a can of hot chocolate mix, and what Laura can tell is a collection of various DVDs.

“You’re sweet,” Laura says, kissing him on the cheek and letting him inside. “I do know how to take care of myself, you know.”

“I know -- well, I figured either that or Natasha --” He stops, as if he’s unsure whether or not he should continue with his words, and Laura sighs.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she says, sitting down on her bed. “About the whole Natasha thing. She’s just...she’s like that sometimes. She blurts stuff out without thinking. Especially when she has alcohol in her.”

“It’s okay,” Clint says, joining her on the bed. “I mean, it’s something I’d want to know. But you are, though? Together?”

Laura nods. “Yes,” she admits slowly. “We are. But I like you, too.” She pauses. “It’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Clint offers, taking her hand, and Laura finds herself thinking of Kate’s words. “And, I mean, hey. We can take it slow, right? We’re still getting to know each other. No one is trying to get you laid just yet. I promise I can be a total gentleman and still make you feel good.”

Laura gives him a small smile and nods. “Right. So, what movies did you bring?”

Clint enthusiastically reaches for his bag, pointing out options as he unearths all his supplies. After careful consideration, Laura decides she’s in the mood to laugh about ridiculous things that don’t require much brain power and chooses _The Hangover_ , and Clint makes hot chocolate with Bailey’s in her small kitchen before joining her on the bed and throwing the blanket over them.

Laura leans her head on Clint’s shoulder almost instantly. The embrace feels warm, comfortable, different than Natasha’s body but at the same time, just as familiar. He puts an arm around her and she sips her hot chocolate, trying not to feel guilty that she’s spending this time without Natasha next to her. It shouldn’t matter, right?

She raises her head to reach for the remote, and suddenly finds herself very close to Clint’s face. Before she can think about what she’s doing, she’s kissing him, and he’s kissing her back, and no one is stopping, and Laura’s _enjoying_ it. And Laura’s kissed guys before, so it’s not like this is anything new to her. It’s just that since Natasha, Laura hasn’t really bothered to kiss guys, or even look at them.

Maybe, she thinks as Clint keeps kissing her, she should ask Natasha to spend the night next time he wanted to come over.

 

***

 

Natasha’s on her last break of the day, sitting in one of the diner chairs and eating a leftover plate of potato salad, when Clint walks in.

“Oh, hey!” She looks up from where she’s scrolling through roller derby fansites on her phone and hops off her chair, being careful not to exacerbate a pain in her leg. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Clint glances around the almost-empty diner, his eyes lingering on an older couple in a small back booth. “Well, I was on my way to archery, but I wanted to stop by and thank you for giving me Laura’s number.”

Natasha smiles. “Don’t mention it. Just doing my job in the girlfriend department.”

Clint laughs, his shoulders hunched around his ears. “Yeah, about that...actually, could I get a cup of coffee?”

Natasha inclines her head in confusion but nods, going back behind the counter.

“So, I know you and Laura are a thing.”

“We are,” Natasha says, reaching for the carafe and not turning around.

“I like Laura, and I...I want this to be comfortable. I don’t want it to be weird, you know? I mean, if things happen.”

“Well.” Natasha grabs for a freshly washed mug. “You should sleep with Laura, and then she’ll tell me about it, and it’ll be super hot.”

Clint clears his throat quietly. “Can I sleep with you, too?”

Natasha turns around so quickly she almost drops the cup of coffee she’s just poured. “What?”

“Laura suggested maybe you could come over next time we get together, and…” Clint trails off, clearly flustered, and Natasha can’t stop herself from grinning as she puts the coffee on the table.

“Hey, Scott!”

Scott leans over the counter window, his head peeking out of the kitchen. “Yeah?”

“Watch the register for a sec? I need to step outside.” She motions for Clint to follow her as she ducks back under the counter, leading him out a back door and into the alley where the dumpsters are. Once the door has closed behind them, Natasha pushes him up against the wall and starts to kiss him. Clint freezes in place, his entire body stiffening, but eventually, he relaxes and starts kissing her back. When she pulls away, they’re both breathless.

“Um.” Clint’s cheeks are flushed bright red, and Natasha folds her arms over her chest.

“So, here’s the deal. Laura and I both like you. You like us, which, by the way, thanks for making that clear just now, because otherwise I would’ve said something first. We’re roller derby girls, we’re used to fighting for things, but we’re not gonna fight for you. You sleep with Laura, you date Laura, you sleep and date with me. It can be a non-complicated thing where no one asks questions except when we need consent.”

Clint nods slowly, his eyes wide and curious, and Natasha can’t help but think this is probably _not_ the conversation he planned to have when he walked into the diner.

“Good. By the way, if you’re interested in coming to another practice, we have a scrimmage on Tuesday night. And don’t forget your coffee.” Natasha turns on her heel and walks back into the diner, leaving Clint standing motionless behind her.

 

***

 

When Laura arrives at the diner to pick up Natasha for practice, she’s both tired and grumpy thanks to midterm results. It doesn’t help that Natasha is over ten minutes late getting off her shift, a delay she attributes to a couple that took forever to pay their bill, and even though Natasha gets into the car with her gym bag and two black and white cookies, which she offers along with an apologetic smile, Laura doesn’t do more than glare and point at the seat next to her.

At least she knows Natasha’s used to her random mood swings at this point.

“Okay,” Natasha says when she doesn’t lean over to kiss her. “You either had a bad exam, a really bad night’s sleep, or your vibrator broke. Either that or the Kardashians broke up again and I missed the twitter alert.” She fishes her phone out of her pocket as she talks, and Laura rolls her eyes.

“As much as I’d like to lie and say it’s a vibrator problem, my midterm results came back. A seventy-five. Seventy-five!” Laura stops at a red light and crashes her head back against the seat in an exaggerated show of despair. “My average is ruined because of a stupid trick question that was worth, like, twenty points. And now because of your stupid customers, we’re definitely going to be late for practice.”

“Look on the bright side,” Natasha says, putting her feet up on the dashboard as Laura pulls back into traffic. “You have a black and white cookie that you got for free, _and_ you’ll probably get a curve or something.”

Laura makes a face as Natasha puts her feet up on the dashboard. “I don’t think so. This professor’s a total douche.”

“Okay,” Natasha says, clasping her hands behind her head. “Well, Clint’s supposed to come to practice today. Does that make you feel better?”

Laura looks over as Natasha’s smile grows. “Marginally. Did you invite him?”

“Maybe,” Natasha says coyly in a voice that Laura knows means _yes, I definitely did_. “I also may have told him that he could date both of us, if he wanted to.”

Laura slams on the brakes at a stop sign. “ _Natasha_!”

“What? For your information, he totally came by the diner and asked if he could sleep with me. It was right out of the blue, and so I dealt with it. As far as I’m concerned, I was doing you -- and us -- a favor.”

Laura finds that she doesn’t know what to say, because while part of her is annoyed and maybe also a little apprehensive about what Clint being with both of them really means, she can’t ignore the fact that she really does want to try this. Not that being with someone like Clint was new territory, by any means, but being with someone like Clint _and_ Natasha was.

“Oh, come on,” Natasha says in exasperation when she remains silent. “Don’t act like you’re mad at me. I know you. You were probably feeling guilty that you were spending time with him without me.”

Laura realizes that Natasha’s right, and also that she can’t yell at her as much as she wants to. “I’m not mad,” she says finally. “You’re just evil sometimes, and I don’t know what to do with you. You’re like, the ultimate super spy.”

Natasha grins. “I’m cute though, right?”

“I guess.” Laura smirks back while stepping down a little harder on the gas pedal. “Let’s see how cute you are when I bust your ass on the track later.”

By Laura’s count, they’re only five minutes late to practice in the end. But Sharon is still snapping angrily at them and America is still giving them exasperated looks, and even though Laura spots Clint sitting in the stands with a cup of coffee, she can’t do more than wave as she rushes into the locker room to put the rest of gear on. By the time she gets out onto the track with Natasha, practice is already underway, and she’s flustered enough that she finds herself throwing all concentration into her skating to avoid getting sidetracked by her own mind.

“Hey, you okay?” Kate asks when Laura stops to take a drink of water. Laura squares her shoulders, trying to get her head back in the game.

“I’m fine. Just a lot going on.”

Kate frowns. “Nat?”

Laura shakes her head. “No. I swear. Just, literally life.”

Kate squeezes her shoulder sympathetically. “Cheer up, Laura Croft. You look great out there -- Clint can’t stop watching you.”

It’s true, Laura realizes as she looks up, seeing Clint’s wide, crooked grin. She smiles back, a surge of energy electrifying her limbs, and readies herself to take another lap as Sharon yells again.

She’s moving slowly when she takes off, which, she figures, is probably why she ends up being slammed against the wall of the track by America, who is pushing through the pack rather roughly. Her skates slip out from underneath her and she lands hard on her back, and the bruise from last week’s game throbs painfully, along with her shoulder.

“Time!” Sharon calls, stopping in front of her as a quick huddle forms, and suddenly, Laura feels like a fish stuck in a bowl even though she knows the attention is out of concern. For as much as they got banged up during practices and games, they’d had enough close calls between all of them to know when to take injuries seriously.

Natasha pushes her way through everyone, bending down. “Laura, can you stand?”

“Yeah,” Laura nods, gritting her teeth against the pain in her body. Natasha helps her up and she readjusts her helmet, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not fine. You’re out of this practice,” Sharon announces.

Laura emits a loud whine. “Sharon, I’m _fine_. I swear. Give me five minutes, I bounce back.”

“I know you do. But I’m not risking you getting hurt again and sitting out a game this weekend, so you’re still going home.” She points in the direction of the locker room, and Laura sighs, knowing that between Sharon and Natasha, she’s definitely not going to win this argument. As Natasha helps her limp across the track, she spots Clint hurrying down the steps of the bleachers, spilling his coffee as he moves.

“I don’t need a knight in shining armor,” she says, stopping with Natasha at the sidelines. “And they don’t allow guys in the locker room.”

“No, I know,” Clint says, his eyes moving worriedly over her body. “I mean, are you -- that looked bad.”

Laura shrugs painfully. “It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me. Mostly old bruises. I’ve been kicked out of practice, I guess, but Natasha’s going to take me back to my place if you want to stop by.”

“Yeah,” Clint says, nodding. “Yeah, okay. I can be over after my lessons.” He leans over the barrier, as if he means to kiss her, but Natasha pulls Laura back.

“Some things are off limits on the tracks,” she explains curtly. “Roller derby rules.” When they get back to the locker room, she turns to Laura with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. You know I don’t care if he kisses you. But I figured I’d save you the pain of having America or Sharon give you grief about making out with a guy while I’m standing there, when you’re already in pain.”

Laura smiles. “Thanks, Nat. I really --”

“Are fine, I know,” Natasha interrupts. “Are you gonna keep telling me you’re fine even when I tell you that I’m planning on cuddling you later?”

Laura tips her head up to kiss her, and then slowly takes off the rest of her gear. She doesn’t bother to look at what new injuries she’s attained during her accident, she’d look later when she could undress fully at her apartment.

Natasha helps her pack up her bags, and they make a stop back in the warehouse where Sharon, Wanda, America, and Kate are still practicing; at least as much as they can with four people. Sharon looks concerned as she checks her out briefly, America and Kate hug her gently, and Wanda offers her sentiments of hoping she feels better before they finally leave.

“Hey,” she says with a tight smile when she finally gets outside with Natasha. Clint is waiting just outside the door of the warehouse, and she gestures towards herself tentatively.

“Still wanna date a derby girl?”

 

***

 

Natasha drives Laura’s car back to her apartment, despite Laura’s protests, and after a quick stop at the diner to pick up a hastily made dinner of soup and cheese fries, they make it back to Laura’s apartment.

“Strip,” Natasha commands once they get inside. “And no, it’s not because I want to see you naked. Although, well. I do.”

Laura sighs, but gets out of her clothes, leaving on her bra and underwear. Natasha runs her hand over Laura’s body, searching for new bruises and any bones that might hurt more than others. She knows she’s being overly gentle for reasons, and tries not to get too turned on by the fact that her hands make Laura flinch.

“Nothing broken,” Natasha surmises. “A few new scrapes, though.” She kisses Laura gently on her swelling lip, licking at some of the dried blood. “And you’re gonna be sore from that impact tomorrow.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Laura says dryly. “At least I’m earning my battle scars.”

“That you are, Laura Croft.” Natasha finds a bottle of open honey whiskey in Laura’s cabinet and pours her a full glass, before crawling into bed. She’s only just pulled the covers over both of them, reaching for the bag of take-out, when a series of quick knocks echoes through the room.

“Men and their timing,” Natasha mutters, getting up and opening the door. Clint peers around her into the apartment.

“Is this still a good time?”

Natasha cocks an eyebrow. “Depends. Do you mind seeing Laura naked?”

“Mostly naked,” Laura corrects with a yell as Clint smiles. Natasha opens the door wider, letting him inside.

“Did you come to make sure I’m not dead?” Laura asks, sipping her drink. Clint laughs as he walks across the room, leaning down to kiss her.

“I figured you might have a few more lives in you. Plus, I want to learn about roller derby, remember? And I don’t think I’d be good at dating if I ran away the moment you got hurt.”

Natasha clears her throat loudly when Clint doesn’t turn around, until he finally gets the hint and straightens up to kiss her, too.

“I thought this wasn’t going to be complicated.”

“It’s not,” Natasha says when Clint stops kissing her, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, yeah. So it’s going to be not complicated _at all_ that you guys are dating, and I’m just kind of infiltrating your relationship? Even if we’re intimate?”

“Clint.” Natasha sighs, glancing at Laura. “It’s _not_ infiltrating. You like us, right? Who gives a damn whether we like men or women? We like you, too.”

“To be fair, you _did_ show up to a practice where more than half the girls on the team swing the other way,” Laura adds.

Clint rubs a hand over his face, the definition of a facepalm moment that Natasha finds kind of adorable. “Story of my life,” he says when he removes his hand so that he can speak. “Also, that was a mistake.”

“A well timed mistake,” Natasha points out. “Anyway, if you’re into take-out, we’re kind of in the middle of something.” She motions towards the bed and Clint smiles again, taking off his shoes and jacket. He climbs awkwardly between them and situates himself against the wall, and they open the bag of food, digging into the plastic tray of fries hungrily.

“How did you get involved in archery?” Natasha asks as she catches sight of Clint’s hand holding a fry. It’s the first time she’s really paid attention to them, and she’s only now noticing that his fingers are calloused and scarred. “I mean, I know you said that it’s because you grew up in the middle of nowhere, but you obviously kept up with it enough to be good enough to teach.”

“Um. Well.” Clint bites down on his lip. “I was kind of in the circus for awhile.”

“You were not,” Laura says immediately, and Clint laughs quietly, shoving another fry into his mouth.

“No. I was.” He motions towards Natasha’s phone, which is lying on her lap. “Can I?”

Natasha nods, quickly unlocking her iPhone and handing it over. Clint works his fingers over the screen, and then turns the phone sideways as a YouTube video starts to play.

“Oh my god,” Laura says as she leans over for a better look, and Natasha honestly can’t tell if Laura’s words are from awe or from disbelief. Because, yes, Clint was in the circus, alright. The video he’s playing shows him shooting multiple arrows from varying heights while walking along tightropes, and he’s wearing a ridiculous purple cowl on his head. But he’s also bare chested, wearing a tight purple uniform that shows off every single one of his muscles and accentuates his body in all the right places, and Natasha would be lying if she didn’t admit to having a hot bout of pleasure rolling around in her belly.

“Do you still have the cowl?” Natasha asks after the video ends, in an attempt to get her mind off the fact that she wants someone to get her off, right the hell now.

Clint snorts. “ _Hell_ , no. I burned that thing the moment I ditched the Big Top. And I would’ve burned the video, too, but I didn’t have control over who uploaded it. Guess it’s up there for life.” He glances at Laura, then Natasha, and gestures to himself.

“Still wanna date a circus boy?”

 

***

 

So the thing is, Clint is _good_. Like, really good. And Natasha is good, too. And Laura feels really lucky that she can think that since they don’t have sex, not really, because they’re all a little wary about consent. They’re also all a little drunk, and Natasha being Natasha informs them that even though they’re all on the same page regarding their relationship, no one is, in her words, “sucking any dick or getting anyone off until we’re sober enough to talk about what we are and aren’t comfortable doing with each other’s bodies.”

So, equally fuzzy in mind (and in Laura’s case, slightly more fuzzy than usual thanks to some painkillers and alcohol mixing together), they agree that getting naked so they can cuddle is an applicable substitute for orgasms, which is how Laura finds herself waking up with sunlight streaming through her blinds, one arm wrapped around Clint’s body and Natasha lying against her breast.

“Hi,” she breathes when Natasha’s eyes flutter open once she moves her arm to stretch.

Natasha smiles sleepily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Clint grunts from next to her, and Laura stifles an early-morning giggle.

“Not a morning person, huh?”

“Never,” Clint admits, still not moving. “I hope you’re not kicking us out of bed.”

Laura squints upwards and manages to grab her phone from the bedside table. “Not for an hour, at least. I have class at eleven.”

“Told you I’m never going back to school,” Natasha grumbles, burrowing more into Laura’s chest. Laura bends her head and kisses Natasha’s hair in response.

Half an hour later, they’ve all somewhat managed to get themselves awake enough to be functional. Laura grants Clint use of the bathroom and shower while she cleans up her apartment, leaving Natasha to play games on her iPhone.

“I thought you said there was only room for one person with good aim in your life,” Natasha says without looking up, but Laura can clearly hear the teasing in her voice.

“I lied, apparently.” Laura’s eyes dart to the bathroom. “I keep thinking. About what we told him about America and Kate.”

Natasha looks up from her phone and chews on the skin around her fingernail. “About the fact that they’re dating?”

“About the fact that they don’t really say that they are,” Laura says. “And that’s fine. I mean, we know that they’re together, and no one should have to admit anything they don’t want to, but…”

“But you don’t want to be that,” Natasha observes, watching Laura carefully. She puts down her phone, and Laura shakes her head.

“No. I mean, I don’t know _what_ I want to be, or what I want _us_ to be, but I don’t want to hide.”

“We have to hide?”

“Nat, Clint’s going to keep showing up at games.” Laura sighs, throwing a dish towel across the room. “And he’ll keep hanging out with us regularly, because we’ll keep inviting him out with us. People talk. Our _teammates_ talk. I don’t want people walking on eggshells around us, and I know this isn’t conventional.”

“It’s not,” Natasha agrees. “But you’re happy, right?”

Laura blinks rapidly. “Yes.”

“With me? And with Clint? And you totally _do_ want to sleep with both of us, once we’re not exhausted and drunk, and can give full consent on how to properly have a threesome?”

“Yes,” Laura repeats.

“Well, then, how about this.” Natasha holds out her arms, and Laura walks forward, dropping down onto her lap like a child. “I won’t try to tell you what this is. I don’t think Clint will, either. You’ll kiss who you want to kiss, and we’ll enjoy being together, and as long as we don’t let our team think that we’re in some sort of strange fight, I really don’t think they’ll mind that we’re getting some.”

Laura looks at the bathroom door again, where steam is pouring out from between the cracks. She smiles to herself imagining Clint in the shower; now that she’s actually seen him naked it’s almost impossible to not think about sleeping with him.

“I can’t believe your master plan actually worked.”

“I did _not_ have a master plan,” Natasha protests as Laura snuggles into her. She snorts.

“Really?”

“Well, okay,” Natasha relents, stroking her head. “Maybe I did.” She looks up as Clint exits the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down his bare torso. “But you’re right, it worked.”

 

***

 

This isn’t Laura’s first “almost seriously hurt” rodeo; she’s been through it before and she knows all the things that go into proving that she’s really one hundred and ten percent okay to play in a championship game with another team: extra practice with Sharon, a briefing and run-down of injuries with America, and swearing that, no matter what, she’ll pull out if she hurts too much.

Which is why instead of practicing with the Ultimates before their current bout, she’s pre-gaming on the sidelines and texting with Clint, who is trying to make it over in time from his last-minute archery lesson next door.

“God, I love game day,” Laura says as Natasha stops for a break in front of her. She watches the rest of the girls swing around the track, sighing contently and swinging her legs back and forth against the bleachers.

“Even game day with the Ultimates?”

“Even game day with the Ultimates. Who we are totally going to take down, by the way.”

“Let’s hope.” Natasha leans over the barrier and kisses her. “Sharon’s waiting for us when you finish your beer, by the way. Speeches in fifteen. You know how Sharon gets if we miss the speeches.”

“I know, I know,” Laura grouses, wanting to play but also not wanting to give up her beer, which she still has half a can of. “Tell them I’m on my way.” She chugs the rest of her drink easily and looks down at her phone as Natasha skates away.

Laura gets up, throws her empty plastic can in the trash, and makes her way into the locker room. America and Kate are already talking loudly, and Natasha is leaning against a wall, talking to Wanda.

“Laura Croft is here, time to huddle up and get this party started!”

Laura quickly laces up her skates as everyone crowds together as closely as they can.

“Jesus, Laura, you smell like a bar.”

“Shut up, Chavez.”

“Sharon, I hate huddles,” America whines. “I hate them even more than I hate our motivational speeches.”

“Shut up, they’re tradition,” Sharon says, getting up on a bench and balancing herself precariously by holding onto the tops of the lockers. “And you know it.”

America rolls her eyes. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. And keep it short.”

Sharon tosses her head and ignores America. “We may have had a few setbacks lately, but we’re a damn good team. We’re also a damn good looking team, if I say so myself. So good looking we can play both sides of the field.”

“Tattletale!” Natasha says indignantly, and Kate grins.

“Now you know how it feels to be called out, Widow.”

“Whatever.” Natasha pumps her fist in the air. “Let’s get out there and kick some Ultimates ass. Walters may be strong, but she’s got nothing on Smashmerica. Go get ‘em, Young Avengers!”

One last whoop of a cheer from all of them, a good luck kiss to Laura from Natasha before they put in their mouth guards, and they’re off, exiting from the locker room to loud cheers and introductions. As they roll around the track, Laura glances up and sees Clint taking his seat near the front of the stands.

Laura thinks for a moment and then grabs Natasha’s hand, pulling her around the track, even though the game’s nearly about to start for real. Natasha yanks her hand back and flies in front of Laura, turning around on her skates, her eyes plainly asking _what the fuck_?

Laura ignores the shouts of her teammates and maneuvers around Natasha, slowing to a stop in front of where Clint is sitting. Natasha stops next to her and Clint stands up, looking both confused and happy.

“Aren’t you going to wish us good luck?”

Clint laughs, his face lighting up. “Good luck, Young Avengers.”

Laura rips out her mouth guard and grabs for Clint’s shoulders, pulling him forward as much as she can. She kisses him full on the mouth, not caring who sees, and Clint stares at her in surprise as he pulls away.

“I thought some things were off limits on the track.”

Laura doesn’t answer him and instead turns around, kissing Natasha in the same passionate way.

“They are. But I changed my mind.”

She skates away holding Natasha’s hand, and as she falls back into formation with her team, she catches America and Kate giving each other a high five, and Wanda’s approving grin, and Sharon’s head shake and wink. The crowd cheers loudly, the roaring applause deafening and overpowering, and even though Laura knows they’re not really cheering for _her_ \-- they’re still announcing players from the Ultimates, the game’s about to begin -- she feels invigorated by their enthusiasm.

Natasha moves into place behind her, cupping her ass stealthily, and Laura can’t stop smiling. She meets Clint’s eyes again across the track, and he grins widely.

They don’t even know if they’ve won or lost yet, but as far as roller derby highs go, Laura decides that this is one she’s going to ride for awhile.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](isjustprogress.tumblr.com) for fic and more.


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